


When We Collided

by brooklynnbros



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Modern AU, Romance, also basically a daredevil au but I didn't realize it until seven chapters in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 06:55:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5818531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklynnbros/pseuds/brooklynnbros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellemere is a single mother, struggling to provide for herself and her two daughters. Rocinante is a single father of one son, fresh out of law school and attempting to set up his own practice in the tiny coastal town of Cocoyashi. When the two parents meet, they find that they both have similarities–and secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The sun cast a lazy eye over the small town of Cocoyashi, spreading its warm beams like the feathers of a celestial bird. They brushed against the horizon of the sky, turning it from the color of ink, to deep blue, until it blushed with vibrant pinks and oranges. The sun continued to let its heat seep into the ground and through the windows of all the little houses below. Many of Cocoyashi’s residents had been up before this event and were blessed with the opportunity to watch this transformation. 

Some, though, were not so fortunate.

The sun had already risen well beyond the horizon when Bellemere felt its rays tickling her face though the open window. The young woman blinked dazedly, licking her dry lips and rolling over to escape the burning sensation. Her gaze happened to land on her small alarm clock, its shaky LED digits reading “7:45”.

Instantly, Bellemere flung herself into an upright position, a horrified squeak leaving her mouth. Blankets were discarded with abandon, feet shoved into ratty slippers, and she scrambled out of her room in a panic. 

“Girls?” She poked her head into the only other bedroom in the house. “Girls, wake up, get out of bed, we need to go. Mommy overslept.” Without a second glance, she dashed into the kitchen, undone hair flying. 

“Eggs, oranges, _toast_ –“ Bellemere banged her hip on the counter of the tiny kitchen, and cursed, loudly. 

“Mommy?” 

She whirled around. “Oh. You’re already up, Nojiko. Good. Get your things together. We have to leave for school, like, now.”

Her ten-year-old daughter cocked her head, her blue hair bouncing slightly beneath a sparkly plastic headband. “We’re all ready to go, mommy, breakfast ’n everything. Nami’s just in the bathroom brushing her teeth.” 

Bellemere paused, mouth open, at the realization that her eldest daughter was perhaps a better parent than she was. With a sigh, she put a hand to her face. “Okay. Let me just get my hair up, and I’ll walk you to school.” 

\- - 

She accompanied her two children to the curb of Cocoyashi Elementary, well aware that she was still wearing her pajamas and slippers. They always walked to school, for it was only a few minutes away from their house on foot. More importantly, the little family never had enough funds to own a car. 

“Remember to smile for me, m’kay?” she told them, kissing the two girls on their heads. “And no snitching stuff from the teacher’s desk. I don’t want to have to go to another parent-teacher conference.” 

Name stared up at her with large, innocent green eyes. “But mommy–“

“I said _no_. Maybe if the oranges sell better this week, I can get you two some special school supplies.”

“Sparkly pencils? With colored erasers on the ends? Gel pens?” Nojiko pleaded.

“Notebooks with kittens on them?” Nami added.

Bellemere squinted at them. “What about the personalized notebooks I made you guys? Don’t you like those?”

“They were the same ones as last year!” her youngest protested. “You just erased everything inside and re-decorated the covers.”

Bellemere pretended she didn’t hear. “We’ll talk about it later. G’bye, girls!” 

\- - 

She arrived at the orange grove after stopping by the house for decent clothing. The stress of oversleeping that morning had not worn off; most of her customers came in the wee hours of the morning, and now it was only a few hours until lunch. The young woman mumbled to herself angrily as she gathered the brightest oranges to set in baskets at her booth. Only a few people liked to wander around the groves and pick the fruit themselves; most bought them directly from her at the entrance. A wicker basket under each arm, she trotted back to her booth and began arranging the fruits beneath the hand-painted banner, which read:

BELLEMERE’S ORANGES

and, in smaller text,

HAND-GROWN, HAND-PICKED, 100% ORGANIC

She wasn’t quite sure about the last part, but it looked good on the sign. Nami and Nojiko had taken it upon themselves to decorate the sign with paintings of them, their mother, and orange blobs that she guessed were supposed to be fruit. 

Her stomach gurgled painfully, and Bellemere gave a small groan. She’d forgotten to eat anything; she jerked an orange off the nearest tree and began peeling it with her nails. 

“Calm, Bellemere. Breathe. In, out, in, out.” she told herself, mouth full of pulpy flesh. From her seat behind the booth, she could see the main road that lead into Cocoyashi; it tailed off into a small dirt and loose gravel parking lot right next to the grove. She started counting the time between cars: one minute, three minutes, two minutes and thirty-seven seconds. Sucking her fingers to get the sticky off, Bellemere stacked her orange peelings into a small tower, gazing at it in boredom. Her stomach let loose another plaintive growl; she ducked behind the booth to grab another orange. 

“Hello?” The voice was deep, unfamiliar, and definitely masculine. Bellemere jerked upwards, a half-peeled orange in her hand. 

“Oh, hi!” _Wow, he’s hot._

He was also tall. Not tall–gigantic. Bellemere was a short woman, but even she could guess that he was over seven feet; he was slender, yet well-muscled. The midday sun blazed behind his head, igniting his feathery blonde hair like a heavenly aura. The smile he gave her was small, brief, but genuine and completely adorable. 

Basically a stereotype angel. 

“You’re here to buy oranges, huh? Well, I mean, of course you are. That’s obvious. Why would you come to an orange grove if you weren’t going to buy oranges?“ She spluttered shamelessly, praying that she wasn’t blushing. He chuckled nervously– _even his laugh was cute_ –and brushed the back of his neck with one hand.

“I heard this was the best place in town for oranges.” he explained. 

“Not to mention the only one.” Bellemere replied, finally able to look him in the face. “So, you can pick your own, or there are the ones I picked this morning.”

“Well, I trust your judgement better than my own in this case.” 

He left with the basket of ripe fruit, and it wasn’t until after he’d driven away that Bellemere realized that he hadn’t asked for his change. 


	2. Chapter 2

Bellemere hung around the orange grove until school was let out, staring dazedly out into the gravel driveway. Occasionally someone would pull up, and there would be a spark of hope in her gut; then, they’d turn around, having paused there just to get their bearings. By mid-afternoon, she’d only gotten three other customers. With a tiny sigh, she jammed the cash into her jeans pocket and began jogging back to the school to meet her daughters. 

“Mommy!” Nami dashed towards her mother, orange ponytail bobbing like a pendulum; Bellemere felt the weight on her chest lift significantly. The girl landed in her mother’s outstretched arms, Nojiko following close behind. “Can we go to the library today?” she begged.

Ah…their favorite after-school haunt. “Sure, why not.” Bellemere shrugged. “There’s plenty of time.” 

With a daughter clutching at each hand, she led them towards the small community library. The building was hardly bigger than their own house; it had started out as a ‘give a book, take a book’  box outside the door, but so many books were donated that several residents decided to make it official and open a library. The place had become such a fixture that the two girls considered their day incomplete if they couldn’t stop in for at least ten minutes. Once, Nami had gotten in trouble for trying to snitch a book out without her mother noticing, but Bellemere had caught on and made extra sure that every book they carried out of that building was returned after the allotted two weeks.

“There was a new kid in school today.” Nojiko informed her. 

“Really?” Bellemere replied, incredulous. Cocoyashi Elementary almost never received new students, much less in the middle of the school year. Nojiko nodded emphatically.

“It’s his last year before high school. ” She thought for a moment. “He didn’t talk much, and ate lunch by himself.” 

“Did you introduce yourself and try to make friends?” 

“No. He didn’t look like he wanted friends.” 

Bellemere cocked an eyebrow. “I see. What was his name?”

“Law.” Nojiko caught sight of the library and tugged on Bellemere’s hand. “C’mon, we’re almost there!”

They walked in to the musty scent of old paper; she felt the two girls slip out of her grasp and dash away to separate corners of the library. Stifling a laugh, she shoved her hands in her jean pockets and meandered along the narrow shelves for a few minutes. 

“Are you borrowing that book _again_ , Nami?” she asked, coming upon her youngest surrounded by a pile of lengthy tomes. The one she held in her hands read “NAVIGATION” in gilt lettering that was dull with age. Nami licked her index finger, carefully turned a page, and glanced up, beaming.

“Yup! I’m going to sail the world on day, Mommy, and draw everything I see. I’ll put every single island ever onto one map!” And with that, her eyes fell back onto the page. 

 

Two hours later, the sun began to set and the girls were reluctantly pulled from their seats. Bellemere, staggering under the pile of books in her arms, pushed the library door open with her hip and allowed Nami and Nojiko to exit first; instantly, they began running. Stepping out, she called after them: 

“Hey, girls, wait up! I’m gonna put some of these in your backpacks, okay–“ _Wham!_

The books scattered and so did she; with a startled yelp, she flopped onto the pavement, landing painfully on her rear. 

“Hey! Watch where you’re going, idiot!” she snapped indignantly, shooting a glare at the person who’d rammed into her. 

“I am so, so sorry. God, I’m such a klutz, I’m _sorry_ –“ The man, whom she recognized as the customer from earlier that day, bent over and began gathering the books into his hands, still apologizing. 

Bellemere dusted off her hands and began picking up the books along with him. 

“I do this all the time.” he muttered, casting a guilty glance at her.  “It’s getting to be a problem.” With a nervous chuckle, he dusted gravel off one of the covers and handed it to her. 

“What, running into people?” 

“If only it were that simple.” He shook his head; pale wisps of hair drifted lazily into his eyes. “No, I just can’t seem to stay on my feet. Trip all the time, run into people, occasionally set things on fire.” There was a visible flush to his cheekbones. 

“That’s…unfortunate.” To save what little dignity the blonde had left, Bellemere refrained from laughing out loud. “By the way, sorry for yelling at you.” 

“Oh, no, it’s alright. I’m used to it.” His mouth quirked into a wry grin, and the two of them stood up, arms full of books. 

By this time, Nami and Nojiko had noticed the commotion and come back, eyeing the leggy stranger with suspicion. 

“Who’re you?” Nami demanded. The man bent down so that he eyes were almost level with hers, that irresistible smile appearing once more.  

“My name’s Rocinante. I’m guessing some of these books are yours, am I right?” 

“Yeah.” She nodded, peering at the stack. “That big one on top.” 

He offered it to her, and she took it gladly, clutching it tight.  

“What do you say?” her mother prompted, unzipping Nojiko’s backpack and stuffing some of the other books inside.

“Thanks, Mr. Rocinante.” 

Bellemere was about to politely excuse herself, when a disturbance further down the road drew everyone’s attention. In an instant, a chilling silence had rippled down the streets. The townspeople continued about their business, but the scene had changed as though someone had flicked a switch; no one spoke, preferring instead to keep their eyes glued to the ground. Their steps became slower, more measured– almost timid. Bellemere bristled at the sudden change in atmosphere, but didn’t move. Instead, she grasped both her daughters firmly by the shoulders and tugged them away from the street. In her peripheral vision, she saw Rocinante get to his feet, electric blue eyes searching hers for an explanation. 

 _What’s going on?_ He mouthed to her. Bellemere just shook her head, jerking a thumb towards her right. 

Three figures advanced casually down the middle of the street; in the evening light, their silhouettes were bulky, inhuman.  As they neared, more features became discernible: webbed hands, bony faces, multicolored, shiny skin.  Flanked by two equally misshapen, powerful specimens, Arlong the fishman sauntered down the pavement,  dark liquid eyes flicking back and forth. Jagged teeth peeked through a savage smile; their sharpness was only outdone by the fishman’s extraordinarily long, saw-like nose. 

It had only been a few months since Arlong had made himself at home in Cocoyashi, but to Bellemere, it had been an eternity. The crime lord had complete sway over all authority: the mayor, the police, the justice system. Ironically, vandalism in the little town had depleted ever since he arrived; the usual perpetrators were too terrified. In return for this absolute control, Arlong allowed the residents to live normally–when he wasn’t wringing every last beli out of their pockets. 

The only noise was their sandals rasping against the pavement as they continued their patrol. Nami cringed and wrapped an arm around her mother’s calf; Bellemere reached down and ruffled her hair comfortingly. It was not in the woman’s nature to reveal fear; she stared straight ahead, jaw rigid. 

Then, she felt Arlong’s inky eyes land on her, and it took all of her willpower not to flinch.  For several tense seconds, the fishman paused, his deliberate gaze roving from her, down to her children. His blue lips parted into a thin, knowing smirk.

“You need something?” Bellemere asked, coldly. Tension hung in the air like fog. Instead of answering, Arlong chuckled and turned away. His two companions leered at the scarlet-haired woman momentarily before following their master. 

— 

When the small procession was finally out of sight, Bellemere let out a breath she’d been holding for a very long time. 

“C’mon girls, let’s go.” Her tone was soft, but tinged with undeniable urgency. 

“Wait.” 

A large hand touched her shoulder, and she spun around, irritated. Rocinante took a cautious step back, guessing that angering her could be quite lethal to his health. 

“Are you in some sort of trouble? With…them?” he asked in a low voice. 

Understatement of the _year_ , Bellemere thought, bitterly. “You could say that, yeah.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” His expression was utterly sincere, and Bellemere felt a tinge of admiration at his selfless offer. She exhaled heavily.

“I don’t know.” she replied, brows knitted. “But this really isn’t the place to talk about it, and I need to get my kids home.” She placed a hand on each girl’s head; neither had spoken since the fishmen had left. 

“Right, right. I understand.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I should do the same…I have someone waiting for me, actually.” 

Her mind immediately leapt to the conclusion: _Oh. He’s married._ Bellemere couldn’t deny that she was at least a little disappointed. “I’m sure she must be worried by now.”

The look of utter confusion on his face was so comical that Bellemere almost managed a smile. His lips moved soundlessly for several seconds. 

“W-what? Oh, I-I’m not married.” he spluttered, finally finding his voice. “No, no, I–“ he paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have a son. He’s thirteen. Doesn’t really know anybody here, yet.” 

Bellemere’s eyebrows lifted. “I see. Well, we’ll have to get together sometime.” She glanced down at Nami. “Maybe when things are a little more normal.” 

He nodded enthusiastically, and then sobered. “If you do need anything, just let me know, okay?” 

“Mm.” She wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to contact him besides chance meetings, but frankly she was too tired to discuss it. With a wave of the hand, she turned and began walking with her children towards the setting sun. 


	3. Chapter 3

As the bell rang, a flood of children dashed out into the courtyard of Cocoyashi Elementary, chattering and shouting, separating into little groups as they sat down to eat their lunches.

Law slipped out from the mob and sat down in his little corner, a table on the far edge of the grounds that no one else touched. He pulled his bento box out from his backpack and flipped it open, staring blankly at the contents: onigiri, strawberries, and various raw vegetables sliced into thin strips. He half-heartedly nibbled at a strawberry, watching the other students talk, run around, and throw food at each other. It was always like this; the week was almost over, and no one had approached him, much less spoken to him. Everybody here had somebody else, and he was alone.

“Hey, why don’t we sit over there?” said a girl to her friend, gesturing towards him. Law didn’t make eye contact, pretending that he couldn’t hear the conversation.

“Ew, no, not next to him.” replied the girl’s friend, tossing her head vehemently so that her pigtails flapped. “He probably has cooties, and I don’t wanna get _infected_.” 

The pair moved on, and Law pushed his bento box away, appetite diminished. With a shudder, he hunched over the table, tugging his jacket more tightly around his small frame. He didn’t want to eat anymore…he just wanted to go home…

_White monster!_

_Go back where you came from!_

_Stay away, we’ll be infected!_

Hot tears sprung to his eyes, spilling over despite his desperate attempts to stop them. He let out a husky sob, and scrubbed at his face furiously with one sleeve, ashamed at being so easily upset. The more he resisted, the more tears seemed to come; unable to stem his emotions, he buried his head in his arms and wept quietly for several minutes. 

“Hi! I’m Nojiko and this is my sister, Nami. What’s your name?”

Law jerked his head up, startled. The two girls had somehow sat down without him noticing. The younger one had bright orange hair; the elder had periwinkle blue, pulled back with a headband. They were both smiling. 

“M’name’s Law.” he muttered, trying to cover up the fact that his voice was still hoarse from crying. 

“Is your dad Rocinante?” asked the red-head, putting both hands on the table and leaning towards him. 

“Huh? Oh, yeah.” He wasn’t used to his father being addressed by his formal name. “How’d you know?” 

“We met him a couple days ago, outside the library.” Nojiko explained. “He’s nice.”

Law inclined his head slightly, not sure what other response to give. 

“Mom thinks he’s cute.”

“Nami!” Nojiko hissed, her gaze darting from Law to her sister. 

“What?” asked Nami, innocently. “It’s true.”

“That doesn’t mean you should _say_ it!” With an exasperated sigh, Nojiko turned back to Law, expression radiating a silent apology. “So, when did you come to Cocoyashi?”

“I–“ he began.

“Are you crying?” Nami interjected, peering at him. 

“ _No_.” Law snapped, rudely. “And It’s none of your business.” 

“Nami, sit down and let him talk.” her sister reprimanded, jerking on the back of the little girl’s dress. 

Law cleared his throat uneasily, pulling his bento box towards him and closing the latches. “We’ve only been here for a couple weeks.” he managed to reply, not looking at them.

“Oh. Why’d you move?” 

“You ask a lot of questions.” he observed. Nojiko frowned, but wisely did not pursue the topic. 

“So, we’re going to have a picnic on the beach this weekend. You wanna come?” Nami asked eagerly. When Law didn’t respond immediately, she continued, “Mommy told us to invite you ‘cause you don’t have any friends.”

“That’s not the _only_ reason, though.” Nojiko elbowed Nami not-so-discreetly, and the younger yelped indignantly. 

“No, it’s fine. I can’t go, anyway.” Law told them. 

“Why not?” Nami’s disappointment was clear. 

“Because I’m busy. I work in the evenings with my dad.” he said–which wasn’t completely untrue, but a pitiful excuse nonetheless. He unzipped his backpack and shoved his lunchbox into it just as the bell rang, saving him from further awkward explanation. He slid off the bench and ran inside, ignoring the sisters’ accusing stares. 

\--

After school was let out, he carefully avoided Nami and Nojiko until he was certain they’d left. Then, he waited on the curb, listening for the familiar purr of his dad’s moped. A small part of him regretted pushing the two girls away–and now that they were gone, he realized how much he _did_ want a friend.

But it’d been so long that he’d been around people that didn’t treat him like an object, a weapon to be used–or worse, a monster or a disease. Glancing downward, Law tugged gently upward on the left sleeve of his jacket, exposing a splotch of discolored, pale flesh on his wrist. The Amber Lead Syndrome, which had threatened to take his life only a year earlier, was fading. It had taken months of agonizing self-experiment, but the milky blemishes had begun to recede; they now remained only on his legs and arms. This success, however, could not heal the deeper injuries, ones that required more than just medical knowledge. Outwardly, he showed signs of healing. Inside, he remained merely a frightened, self conscious ten-year-old that Cora-san had rescued from an untimely death. 

These melancholy thoughts invaded his mind as he sat on the cold concrete, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie. Then, the buzz of an engine caused him to lift his head, a smile tugging at his lips. As the black motor scooter approached, the driver threw up a hand in greeting, swerved the vehicle by accident and nearly ran up onto the sidewalk. He managed to course-correct just in time; Rocinante screeched the moped to a halt inches from the curb, his blonde hair a tousled mess and a boyish grin on his face. 

“Good job, Cora-san.” Law told him, dryly. “You didn’t wipe out that time.”

“Hey, I only crashed once.” the blonde protested, tossing him a helmet. 

“Twice.” the boy corrected, climbing onto the back seat and shoving the helmet onto his head. “Remember that time with the pigeon and the trashcans?” 

Rocinante rolled his eyes. “Okay, twice. Sue me.” 

“You should let me drive one of these days.” Law suggested, wrapping his arms around his dad’s shoulders. Roci chuckled in reply; revving the moped into life, he spun a one-eighty and skidded slightly before speeding away from the school. 

It was their tradition to spend the after-school hours at Rocinante’s infant law firm (insert name here). Having just been established a few months prior, the firm had no clients, but the two of them still found ways to pass the time. Despite the fact that Law was far too young to be Rocinante’s associate, the boy was immensely helpful–not to mention the fact that he had a calculating, almost frighteningly shrewd head on his shoulders. Roci often mused on the possibility that Law could become his official partner. They made a fantastic team–at least, in his head. 

— 

He waited to ask the question until they’d reached the firm; he’d read at least part of the answer in Law’s expression as he’d driven up to the school, the dark bruises under his eyes, the way his shoulders had sagged as he’d walked into the office. And when Law had unpacked his school things, the blonde noticed that his lunch was uneaten, again. 

The boy was suffering. But there wasn’t much Rocinante could do about it. 

Shortly after they arrive, Law finally felt hungry, so he perched himself on a stool in the reception area and began finishing his leftover lunch. Roci guessed that this was the best time as any. He placed the documents he’d been scanning onto his desk and tented his fingers. 

“So, what’s wrong?” he asked, bluntly. It had never been his habit to sugar-coat his words–lie, occasionally, but only if extreme circumstances demanded it. 

Law froze in mid-bite, an onigiri halfway to his mouth. With a deep breath, he placed the rice ball back down, mumbling,

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Rocinante exhaled, aware that he was coming very close to crossing an emotional boundary. “Did you try talking to anyone at school?”  

“Not really. A couple girls sat at my table for a little bit.” he replied, with forced disinterest. “Nami and Nojiko.” 

“I’ve met them.” 

“Yeah, I heard.” Law said, flatly. 

They spent the rest of the evening in silence; no one came in, as usual. When sunset came, Roci rummaged in his pockets to find the office keys, only to find that Law was holding them in one outstretched hand.

“They fell out of your pocket when you walked in.” he said simply. Roci smiled in thanks. After locking up, they left the office for a much more pleasant destination: home. 

 

Their house was perched on what was possibly the tallest hill in Cocoyashi, overlooking the ocean. The sunrises and sunsets were visible from almost every room except the kitchen; in the evening, the house breathed of cool salt air. With three bedrooms, a sizable kitchen, and a quaintly decorated living area, it was more than big enough for the two of them.  Despite this, Rocinante didn’t usually sleep in his own room. Instead, he camped on the floor next to Law’s bed–much like tonight.

He’d waited, at first, listening to Law toss and turn for an hour before quieting at last, and had entertained the possibility that the boy might actually be getting some sleep. Then, a mere two hours later, Rocinante had opened the bedroom door to find Law curled up under the sheets, trembling and sobbing into his pillow. 

“Nightmares again, huh, buddy?” the blonde whispered, kneeling down next to the bed with a pillow and a blanket draped over one arm. 

The lump beneath the blankets nodded wordlessly; the air was loud with his panicked, shallow gasping. Gently, Rocinante placed a hand on the child’s back, rubbing back and forth between his shoulder blades. At this act of tender reassurance, the trembling began to subside, and Law sat up, sniffling; his raven hair was wildly mussed and sticky with sweat. He shifted over slightly to make room for Rocinante, rubbing his red-rimmed eyes with the back of one hand. 

The blonde seated himself on the bed, leaning awkwardly against the wall with his legs dangling onto the floor. Law scooted over and rested in the crook of his arm, head pressed against the other’s shoulder. With a snap of his fingers, Rocinante created a sound-proof orb that surrounded the two of them; all the noises of the island vanished. 

“You don’t have to go to school tomorrow, m’kay?” he murmured. “I’ll call and tell them you’re sick.” 

Law nodded gratefully, taking in a long, shaky breath.

As the minutes ticked by, Rocinante watched the sky in the east steadily grow paler, all the while feeling Law fidget restlessly against his side, exhausted but unable to sleep. He felt the younger one’s frustration, and berated himself for not being able to provide a remedy.

“Would it be better if I slept on the floor?” he asked finally, as Law shifted his position for the thirty-millionth time. 

“Yeah–but don’t leave the room.” 

“I won’t.” 

He slid off the bed and onto the floor. The blanket he’d brought was too short to cover all of him (most blankets were), so he curled up into a fetal position on the thick carpet, facing the opposite wall.  There he lay, listening until Law’s breathing became slow and regular; he judged that the boy had drifted into slumber once more–at least for the next few hours. 


	4. Chapter 4

Law was absent for the next three days of school. When he finally reappeared, Nojiko timidly inquired about his health, only to have her question brushed off and ignored. Being a remarkably introspective child, she guessed that this behavior stemmed from something besides pure rudeness. She also guessed–correctly–that Law had not told his dad about their beach picnic invitation. So, when Rocinante arrived to pick up Law from the school, she approached and asked him personally, bringing her younger sister with her for support. 

“So, do you think you could come?” she pleaded, cocking her head slightly to the left and smiling coyly–a trick she’d learned from her mother. 

“Please?” added Nami. The man quirked his mouth to the side in a funny grin.

“Oh, sure.” he replied. “It’d be a nice change from staying inside all day.”  

“Good! Law said you were busy last week, so I just wanted to make sure you could come this time.” 

“He said that, did he?” Rocinante glanced at Law pointedly; the boy pretended not to notice, suddenly preoccupied with buckling his helmet strap. “Well, in any case, we’ll look forward to it.” 

—

Bellemere’s cherry-red ponytail swung back and forth at the nape of her neck as she jogged down the trail leading towards the beach. Picnic basket in one hand and a blanket in the other, she peered down the path; Nami and Nojiko had disappeared from sight seconds earlier, but she could hear their gleeful laughter several yards ahead. 

“Girls, hang on–oh, never mind.” she muttered. This picnic had been the foremost thing on their minds for the last several days; they never talked about anything else, and would’ve probably exploded from excitement if the wait had been any longer. Who was she to rain on their parade? 

Once on the main shoreline, she paused to brush sand out of her sandals, scanning the shoreline for their expected guests. Her girls were already playing in the water, having left their shoes and socks behind for their mother to pick up. Bending over to gather the strewn items, Bellemere placed them in the basket and straightened up, squinting into the sun. 

“Hey, Bellemere.” 

She whirled around, not having heard anyone approach. “Oh, hi, Rocinante!” She laughed, brushing scarlet strands away from her face. “Gosh, you’re so quiet. I didn’t hear you coming.”

The blonde chuckled. “Well, at least I didn’t knock you over this time.” 

“I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Hey, Law.” 

The boy was wearing a hoodie and long pants, even on this sunny afternoon; his hands were buried deep in his pockets. He nodded in response to Bellemere’s greeting and gave a murmured ‘hello’, seeming much more interested in watching Nami and Nojiko play on the beach. Noticing their arrival, the two girls dashed up the sands, shouting as they ran:

“Law! You came! C’mon, we can find sand dollars!”

“Lemme teach you how to dig for sand crabs!” 

“I’m going to build a castle and it’ll be the biggest _ever_!”

Before he even realized what was happening, Law had been caught arm-in-arm by the two enthusiastic girls and dragged away to the water’s edge. To Bellemere’s surprise, he actually joined Nami and Nojiko in their games; she wondered if he’d ever had a sibling before. 

“It seems they’re getting along.” Rocinante observed, brows lifting in pleasant surprise.  

“Yeah. I’ve been meaning to ask you–“ She set down the basket and began shaking out the blanket, spreading it out over the sands. “Is Law alright? He always seems really exhausted and pale.” 

Roci chewed his lip momentarily. “Yes, he is sick.” he confessed, at last. “It’s better than it was, and he’s still improving, but…” There was an unusual, pensive gleam in his eyes. “The kid’s been through a lot. He still has nightmares, can’t sleep, sometimes won’t even eat.” 

There was a heavy silence as Bellemere placed the basket and her daughters’ shoes on the picnic blanket, wondering how to respond; Roci studied the trio of children, arms folded across his chest. 

“He’s lucky to have someone like you.” she replied, quietly. He glanced at her, brows knitted as though he considered the compliment inaccurate. 

Seeking a more private opportunity for conversation, Bellemere stood up and pointed to the shoreline. “You wanna walk?” 

—

The sand was warm and wet, and tickled between his toes. The couple walked with their backs towards the children, into the noonday sun. Neither of them spoke, but being a naturally quiet person, Rocinante wasn’t bothered; he merely enjoyed Bellemere’s presence. The longer he looked at her, the more he began to notice little details about the young woman–the laugh lines that formed around her eyes and mouth when she smiled, the deep tan that faded abruptly when it reached her shoulders, the blue of her irises that reflected the sea. When she noticed his stare, he jerked his head down awkwardly and said, 

“So, this Arlong guy…he really has it in for you, doesn’t he?” 

Her expression twitched, jaw hardening, and Rocinante was about to retract his question when she responded.

“Arlong’s trying to buy out the town. Not just through extortion, though that is a large part of it. What he really wants is ownership of the land, itself, and that means people’s property, houses. I’m the only one who hasn’t sold.” 

He kicked at the sand, watching it spray into the air. “Why haven’t you?”

“Because it’s _mine._ ” She said this as though it were obvious.  

“That’s a pretty good reason.” he admitted. “Anything else?” 

“If I give in, Arlong wins. I can’t let that happen.” Bellemere gave a slight sigh. “Even if I’m the only one who thinks so.” 

“Do you ever worry?”

“About what?”

“Nami and Nojiko. That they might get caught in the crossfire.”

“All the time.” Her voice was soft. Then, she cocked her head and squinted at him, a playful gleam in her eye. “What about yourself? What made you decide to move to this dinky little island?”

“Solitude, maybe some peace and quiet.” The choice had been more in Law’s interests than his own, but now the obvious irony of the situation made him grin. “Though I doubt I came to the right place.” 

“No, I don’t think so.” She stopped dead in her tracks; he stumbled, knocking into her shoulder and collapsing on his hands and knees. Her laughter rang merrily in his ears as he staggered to his feet, brushing sand off his palms. 

T-shirt knotted above her waist and shorts rolled to her knees, Bellemere skipped into the shallows, splashing water at every step. She wiggled her fingers at him in a ‘come here’ gesture. 

His eyes widened, and he licked his lips nervously. “I, ah…I can’t. Swim, that is.” 

She placed her hands on her hips, eyebrows lifting skeptically. “It’s six inches of water, Rocinante. You won’t drown in six inches of water.” 

“You’d be surprised.” he muttered to himself. 

“C’mon, don’t be a pansy. I’ll hold your hand if you want.” She grinned at him wickedly. 

“No, really, I can’t–“ 

Bellemere rushed forward, grabbed both of his wrists and dragged him several feet out. Somehow, he tripped and landed face first in the frothy surf; Bellemere splashed down next to him, pulled down by the sudden weight. When he pulled his head up from the water, he could hear her giggling, completely soaked.

The rest of his body refused to respond. His limbs were overcooked pasta, flaccid and numb. Nausea swirled in his gut, and he knew he had to get out of the water, _now_ , or he wouldn’t be able to move again. He forced himself into an agonized crawl, head spinning, vision bleeding away. Reaching the shore, he retched painfully on the sand; the acid burned in his throat. Then, drained, he crumpled to the ground, water lapping at his ankles. 

—

Unlike his surrogate father, Law knew better than to get near the ocean at all. Catching sand crabs and collecting sand dollars didn’t require much more than damp feet and wet cuffs. Despite the grit itching his elbows and wrists, he didn’t roll up his sleeves.

They’d dug a large pit some ways above the tideline as a home for their ocean paraphernalia, and ran back and forth dumping their catches in it. Nojiko would pause every now and then to count their collections, happily shouting out the totals. Nami seemed determined to use the pockets of Law’s hoodie as a home for ‘Fred’, a sand crab wider than the girl’s palm. 

When these enterprises exhausted themselves, the girls decided to dare each other to see how far out they could wade. They cajoled Law to join them, but he declined.

“I can’t swim, and salt water makes me sick.” 

“Aww…” Nami’s lower lip protruded further out than her nose. Her hands were cupped; Fred the sand crab squirmed within her grasp, desperate to escape. 

“Let’s play something else, then.” Nojiko suggested, wanting to prevent a quarrel.

Nami’s expression brightened. “Pirates n’ Marines!” she begged. “Can I be the pirate? Please?”

“You got to be the pirate last time! Besides, they’re the bad guys.”

“I like getting chased!” 

Nojiko huffed. “Okay, fine.” Then, a mischievous grin tugged at her mouth; she formed her hand into a ‘finger gun’, and dashed after her sister, shouting “Bang! I got you, Nami!”

“No you didn’t, no you didn’t!” The younger squealed, ducking. She wheeled around and came hurtling towards Law. “Look out! You and I are pirates and we gotta run away from Nojiko before she shoots us.” 

Nojiko fired her weapon several times and made gun noises through her teeth, while Nami mimicked holding a sword and swiped at the air furiously. This carried on for several moments before the girls noticed that Law was leaving. 

“Hey, Law, where’re you going?” 

“I’m not playing.” He flung the words over his shoulder. 

“Why not?” Nami jogged to catch up with him, and tugged on his hood.

“Because it’s a stupid game!” With a vicious jerk, he shoved Nami off his arm; she sat down hard in the sand, stunned betrayal scrawled across her face. 

Nojiko pulled her sister to her feet.

“What’d I do?” The flame-haired child wanted to know. Nojiko shook her head, watching as the boy stalked up the beach, shoulders hunched. 

“I have no idea.”

—

Bellemere could have kicked herself in the teeth–and then afterward, she would have kicked Rocinante if he hadn’t been prostrate on the sand, heaving for air. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me you were a Devil Fruit user?” she demanded, standing over him.

“I…tried to.” he protested weakly, between gasps. Each breath seemed to be a struggle. 

She pulled at her hair until it hurt. “I can’t believe I was so stupid.”

“I’m fine.” Rocinante insisted. He coughed and sat up, wiping his mouth with one sleeve. She offered him a hand and pulled him to his feet, where he stood, dripping.

“Hey–“ He took a step forward, eyes focused on something behind her. 

She turned just in time to see Nami flop to the ground, Law shout something unintelligible, and Nojiko run up to her sister as the boy trudged away. 

“Hang on a minute.” she cautioned, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder as he tried to advance. “Let’s see if they can work it out themselves.” 

The distant scene played out like a film; Law seated himself on a rock outcropping, hugging his knees to his chest and gazing out towards the ocean. Nami and Nojiko seemed to be in deep conversation for several minutes, before slogging up the beach, hand in hand. When they reached the boy, there was a short, inaudible exchange of words; Law slid off his perch, they shook hands, and then they headed back down to the shoreline, all hurts seemingly resolved. Rocinante let out a low whistle. 

“Wow. I never thought…” He didn’t finish, and just shook his head. 

Smoothly, she looped her arm in his (it was a bit of a reach, but she managed), smiling when he jumped at her touch,

“Let’s go get some lunch, huh?” 

—

“You know,” Rocinante began, swallowing a mouthful of sandwich, “I might be able to help you with your problem.”

Bellemere cocked an eyebrow. “How?” 

“I’m a lawyer.” he explained. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find proof that Arlong’s illegally pushing people out of their homes.” He sounded more confident than he felt. 

She gave a sad smile, burying her feet in the damp, cool sand. “Well, that sounds nice, but I can barely afford to feed my children, much less hire a lawyer.”

“We’re quite a pair. You have no money, and I have no clients.” 

“And besides–“ Bellemere lowered her voice. “Even if I could hire you, you’d be working alone against everyone else with authority in this town. As far as I know, there’s only one cop who hasn’t been bought out by Arlong. The court consists of maybe ten people, and they’re all too scared to actually do anything. Can you stop someone with that much power?” 

Roci’s brow knitted. “It’s…unlikely.” 

“Impossible.” Bellemere corrected. She huffed a small sigh and laid back down onto the blanket, closing her eyes against the glare of the sun. “I’m sorry for being so pessimistic. I’ve been stuck in this fight for a long time. And I–” she paused, biting her lip. “I just want to keep my kids safe. That’s all.”  

Roci nodded wordlessly.


	5. Chapter 5

“So, did you have a good time today?” 

Bellemere pulled the brightly patterned coverlet up to Nami’s shoulders as she spoke.

Her youngest daughter wriggled beneath the blankets, getting herself comfortable. “Yes!” she said, flashing a wide smile. “Can we do it again?”

“Go to the beach? Of course.”

“I meant with Law and his dad.” 

Seating herself on the edge of the bed, Bellemere thought for a moment. “I don’t see why not.” She tapped Nami’s nose with her index finger. “Speaking of him, what happened with Law earlier? He was pretty upset.” 

Nami’s brow crinkled in the middle. “I’m not sure. He didn’t say, exactly.”

Across the room, Nojiko’s head popped up from her pillow, blue hair gleaming in the twilight. “He didn’t like the game we were playing.” she chimed in. “It makes him remember things.”

“Things?” Rocinante had alluded to the boy’s troubled past, but she hadn’t realized it was this far-reaching. “What kind?”

“ _Bad_ things.” said Nojiko, seriously. With a soft squish, she flopped back down on her mattress. “So we promised not to play the game again.” 

“Huh.” She mused on this new bit of information for a moment. “Well, I was very proud of you girls when you apologized. You did the right thing.” 

Kisses were exchanged, prayers said, and lights turned off. Bellemere slipped out the door and closed it carefully behind her, looking forward for a quiet hour all to herself. 

She seated herself on the window seat–the one unique feature of the tiny house–a mug of tea in her hand. The silence, the view of the stars, and the moist, orange-scented vapor wafting beneath her nose helped clear her mixed emotions. The day had been a confusing one, to say the least. For years, she endured the taunts and disbelief of the townspeople who judged her for raising two daughters on her own. You can’t possibly be a good mother,they accused. You’re too irresponsible. You’ll fail. 

She had done it–alone. And yet, there was something missing. Certainly, Nami and Nojiko noticed it, also. They were aware that almost every other child in school had both a mother and a father; they knew they were different. The void was obvious. 

 _I don’t need anybody’s help. I’ve made it this far, so I can keep going._ had been her mantra throughout those difficult months. 

She took a sip of her tea, the taste both sweet and bitter. 

When she’d first seen Rocinante at the orange grove, her heart had gone into frantic palpitations and her cheeks had reddened. There was no denying the man was hot as heck. But it was deeper than that. One day–no, barely one afternoon, had provided so many insights into his character: transparent honesty, sincere interest in the safety of her and her daughters, tender concern and care for Law. All things that Bellemere admired and found very attractive. 

Not to mention their children were practically best friends.

_Maybe. Some day, maybe._

She drained the mug and set it on the counter before retiring to her room for the night. 

—

The letter was lying on the kitchen counter when she returned from dropping the girls off at school the next day. Realizing that it had not been there earlier that morning, she rushed around checking the doors and windows. The sliding window pane right above Nami’s bed was unlocked and slightly ajar; Bellemere broke into a cold sweat, hands trembling and clammy. Someone had broken into her house, left the note, and gotten out again. 

She ripped open the envelope, scanned the page and its simple message. With an angry scream, she crumpled the envelope and its contents into a wad and threw it as hard as she could. The tiny sound it made hitting the wall was not nearly enough to abate her fury. 

“How _dare_ they.” she hissed, gathering up the ball of paper and squeezing it in her fist. Shoving it in her pocket, Bellemere strode to her own room, shut the door and drew the curtains. She crouched down by her bed until she was almost eye-level with the floor and, extending an arm, drew a long, narrow object out from underneath the bed frame. 

Bellemere hadn’t had a reason to use a weapon in years. But this disturbing turn of events–and the fact that whoever was after her could easily get into her house–was quickly changing her mind. 

For the next few minutes, she remained absorbed in cleaning the double-barreled shotgun and making sure that all its parts were in working order. Satisfied, she shoved two cartridges into the chamber, cocked it, and set it carefully in the corner by her bed. Then, rethinking her decision, she carried the firearm out to the kitchen and placed it behind the front door. 

“Come and get me, Arlong.” she whispered to the empty room. 

— 

Despite the fact that Bellemere nailed shut all the windows in the house, the letters began to show up everywhere–shoved beneath the door, tucked in her orange baskets, even poking out of her purse. All of them bore the same message: _April 3rd. You’re running out of time._

Arlong took a census of all the villagers every few months or so–he varied it too keep them all on edge–and then demanded money from each household: 1,000 beli for each child, 10,000 beli for each adult. As the last one had barely been eight weeks ago, Bellemere was certain Arlong knew there was no way on earth she could cough up that much money now. Not paying her dues could mean several things: loss of her house, her children, her own life. Or, most likely, all of the above. His actions were obviously intentional, an attempt to steal her property and her livelihood; these letters were an extra reminder, meant to increase pressure and intimidate the ‘weaker species’. 

So when Nami came home with letter addressed to her mother that had mysteriously found its way into her school locker, Bellemere didn’t even bother reading it; she ripped it in half and tossed it into the trash, seething. Controlling herself, she took each girls’ hands gently in her own and said gently, 

“Looks like we’re going to need to wait on those sparkly gel pens, okay?”

The girls understood, and didn’t complain.

 

Bellemere immediately searched for ways to cut back on her expenses–but hardly knew where to begin. She and the girls were already living on the bare minimum; she’d even gone to the desperate measures of using bathtub water to irrigate her orange groves and not allowing the use of electricity until after sunset. She didn’t have a car or a phone, she always shopped at thrift stores, gave Nami hand-me-downs from Nojiko, hardly ever bought clothes for herself–what else could she do? 

The crushing hopelessness of her situation fell upon her all at once. For a moment, she just sat down at the table and cried, quietly so that Nami and Nojiko couldn’t hear. 

Then, something moved in her tear-blurred vision. She blinked, tried to focus–

There was a fishman in her orange grove. _Oh, no you don’t._

Instantly, Bellemere sprang to her feet, snatching the shotgun from its place behind the door before stalking outside.

“Excuse me!” she howled, jogging towards the trees. 

This fishman was a particularly ugly, pea-green specimen, covered in warts from head to toe. He resembled more of a frog than the rest of his aquatic brothers. What little she could see of him was dangling from the uppermost branches of her largest orange tree. 

“What are you doing up there?” she demanded. The fishman glanced down at her, smirking that disgusting, slimy smile. 

“Delivering a letter for Miss Bellemere.” he gurgled; she thought his voice sounded like water going down a drain. 

“Well, _I’m_ Miss Bellemere. Get down here and hand me the letter instead of ruining my orange trees.”

He complied; she snatched the letter from his webbed hand and crumpled it into a ball, relishing the surprised expression on his face.

“I already know what it says.” she snapped. “And you know what? Tell that high and mighty Arlong that instead of having his minions trespass on my property–yes, _my_ property–and leave stupid notes, he should come talk to me personally. In fact–“ she was beginning to enjoy chewing this guy out–“I’ll come and meet him myself. Sunday night, 10:00, behind the library. We’ll negotiate then.” 

The fishman gaped at her. She raised her shotgun, aiming at his skull.

“Now get. Out.” she hissed. Flashing her a dark scowl, the fishman turned and padded out of the grove; Bellemere didn’t move, keeping her shotgun trained on him till he’d turned and gone up the road.

After he left, she realized her hands were shaking.  

 

Sunday was five days away, giving her more than enough time to think about what she’d gotten herself into. Actually, thinking about it just made things worse. In addition, she’d been living on nothing but oranges and water for the past week in an effort to leave more food for her daughters. They hadn’t noticed, yet, but its effect on Bellemere’s body was slowly beginning to show. It became a conscious effort to keep a brave face when everything seemed to be falling apart around her. 

Then, on Friday, she fainted. 

She was on her way to pick up the girls from school, hurrying because she was already late and they were waiting for her. The school had just come into sight when, in an ironic role-reversal, she ran smack-dab into Rocinante, who had Law at his side. Staggering backwards, she struggled to stay upright as her vision spun. 

“Sorry ‘bout that.” she muttered, dizzily.  

“No problem. I do it all the time.” He peered at her, concerned. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just picking the girls up from school.” Bellemere tried to take a step and her knees buckled. 

“Whoa–“ Rocinante caught her in his massive arms as the ground slipped out from under her feet. The black blotches hovering in front of her eyes obscured almost everything; her body felt oddly light, hollow. 

“Nami…Nojiko…” she heard herself moan before completely blacking out. 

\--

She awoke on a cold bench, her head pressing painfully into the armrest. 

“Her blood sugar’s unusually low. She’s lucky it didn’t drop any further, otherwise it could have been fatal.” a boy was saying. _Law._ she realized. Opening her eyes with difficulty, she lifted her head and directed her gaze towards his voice. 

“I’ll go get the girls.” That was Rocinante speaking. “Stay with her until the ambulance arrives.”

“Dad, I’m not sure she needs one–“ Law didn’t finish, turning towards Bellemere. “Hey, you’re awake!” he exclaimed, startled. He reached out a small, clammy hand to grab her wrist, feeling her pulse. “It’s steady.” 

“Bellemere?” Rocinante’s face suddenly filled her line of vision. “I’m going to go pick up Nami and Nojiko, make sure they’re safe. Just rest for a minute, okay?” 

And with that, he jogged away, long legs taking him several feet at each step. 

“What happened?” she asked groggily, pushing herself up onto her elbows.

Law didn’t look up; he was examining a piece of paper with brown blotches on it. “Your blood sugar crashed, and you fainted.” he said, matter-of-factly. “What have you been eating?”

“A lot of oranges.” Her answer was intentionally vague. 

“Anything besides oranges?” Dang, this kid was sharp. 

“Not really, no.” she confessed, squinting at the piece of paper. “Is that…blood?” 

“I needed a plasma sample to figure out what was wrong with you. I had a pretty solid hunch, but this confirmed it. If you’ve been eating nothing but oranges, than your blood sugar would be rising and dropping dramatically, resulting in energy peaks and lethargy, alternately.”

Unsure how to respond to this, Bellemere rested her head back onto the bench. “Did you dad say something about an ambulance?” she asked eventually. 

“Yeah. He freaked out when you collapsed and called one right away.”

She was seized with a sudden urgency. “I can’t go to the hospital.”

Law glanced at her oddly. “Why not?” He was shoving what looked like medical equipment into his school bag. _Is it legal for a 13-year-old to have stuff like that?_

“Because–“ Her explanation was cut off by sirens, and an ambulance came careening around the street corner, lights blazing. “I can’t afford it–the hospital bills!” she told Law over the noise, trying to stand up but failing. “I’ll be stuck there for days and then they’ll charge me a fortune, and I _can’t_ have that happen right now, I just can’t.” 

She managed to get to her feet and assume the appearance of an innocent yet haggard bystander by the time the screaming vehicle pulled up to the curb. Two paramedics flung themselves out of the back of the truck, eyes scanning the scene for the emergency. 

“Where’s the injured woman? We got a call from this location.” one asked. Law frowned. 

“I think there’s been a mistake. There’s no one injured here that I know of.” he lied, easily.

“Ma’am, do you know anything about this?” The paramedic approached Bellemere, and she moulded her expression into one of confusion and polite concern.

“No. I’m not quite sure what’s happening, myself.” 

One of them cursed, muttering something about ‘prank calls’ and ‘stupid kids’. The other was mildly bewildered. 

“Well, if there’s no emergency, then we’d better be going.” He signaled to the driver of the ambulance as they climbed back in. Seconds later, there was no evidence that the event had ever occurred.

“That was some slick talking, kid.” Bellemere grinned at him, sitting back down on the bench. “Thanks.”

He shrugged, and didn’t reply. Then–

“Mommy!”

“Momma, are you alright?”

Bellemere was assaulted by Nami and Nojiko simultaneously, the former catapulting herself onto her mother’s lap and hugging her tight, while Nojiko climbed up onto the bench and snuggled herself beneath Bellemere’s arm. 

“Oh, girls–“ Her voice broke. “I’m all right. I’m okay.” She clutched both of her daughters tight, all three of them unspeaking. The silence was disturbed as Rocinante came jogging up, slightly winded but relieved. 

“Hi.” She waved at him. 

“Hey.” he replied, placing his hands on his hips. “Has the ambulance arrived yet?”

“Come and gone. I didn’t need to go to the hospital.”

His eyebrows lifted. “You’re sure? Because–“

“Yes, I’m sure.” Her tone indicated that she was done talking about it, and Rocinante wisely stopped talking. 

“Mr. Rocinante carried us all the way here!” Nami popped her head up, bonking her mother on the chin. 

“Really? I bet he went super fast, since you two hardly weigh anything.” Bellemere tickled Nami beneath her arms, and she giggled. “Well, you know what, we should get home. It’s late already, and I still need to make dinner.”

“Well–“ Rocinante coughed awkwardly and stood for a moment, hands shoved in his pockets. “I was wondering if you’d…” he took a deep breath–“Possibly consider coming to my house for dinner?” He said these last words unusually fast and ended the question with a sheepish grin. 

“He’s actually a good cook when he’s not setting stuff on fire.” Law added, with a devilish smirk. 

“Oh. Um…” Bellemere bit her lip. 

“I mean, if you don’t feel up to it, that’s totally fine. I understand completely.” Rocinante stared at the pavement, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. 

“Please, mommy?” The two girls pleaded, in unison. Her will was beginning to weaken.

“You know what?” she said at last. “Sure.” 

 


	6. Chapter 6

The dinner at Rocinante’s house that night left her walking on air, and she had to constantly remind herself  that it wasn’t a date. Maybe the strictly-oranges diet was affecting her hormones, but all during the meal–which was excellent–all she could focus on was the fact that he looked absolutely adorable while he ate. Not to mention he’d invited her over, not out of pity or charity, but because he clearly enjoyed her company. That was something. Then, she’d returned to her house and was instantly reminded of the huge burden she carried. The bubble burst, leaving only traces of the warmth and happiness inside, enough to keep her from showing how miserable she felt until after the girls were in bed.

She hadn’t told him about Sunday. About Arlong. About the fact that she was probably going to lose everything, that her daughters could lose potentially their mother. This was something she had to do on her own, so no one else could get hurt. Maybe, just maybe, if she reasoned with the fishman, she could figure out a different way to pay for both her daughters other than just money: manual labor, an unlimited supply of oranges, anything. At the moment, she only had enough to pay for one child, and half of the fee for the other. Providing her own fee was impossible. 

With a stifled sob, she tugged the covers over her head and tried to sleep. 

—

Law awoke to the electrifying scream of the smoke detector. Flinging off the covers, the boy dashed out into the kitchen to find the kitchen enveloped in murky vapor with his father in the middle of it, swiping the air and coughing. 

“What’d you _do_?” Law demanded, clapping his hands over his ears as the persistent wail grew louder. The air stank of burning oil.

“Just a small fire–“ Rocinante’s voice was muffled. “Open the windows, quick!” Grabbing a dishtowel, the blonde held it over his nose and strode to the smoke detector. With a flick, the piercing noise stopped. He sagged against the wall with an audible sigh of relief; Law removed his hands from his ears and proceeded to open the nearest windows. 

Meanwhile, his father tended to the disaster; whatever had caused the smoke was still sizzling on the stovetop. Law came over to investigate, smirking slightly. 

“What happened?” he asked again, switching on the fan above the stove. “It looks like something died.” 

Rocinante grimaced, rubbing a greasy smudge off his cheek. “That is–or at least it used to be–breakfast.” 

“Wow. Were you trying to set it on fire, or did you walk away and forget it was cooking?” Law ducked as Rocinante threw the dishtowel at him. 

“Shut up and help me clean.” He grinned, tongue poking through his teeth. 

Law’s ability was useful in this instance: creating a permeable blue orb larger than the kitchen, he used his ’shambles’ technique to transport the mess straight into the trashcan. Rocinante glanced at him, obviously impressed. 

“Getting the hang of it, huh?”

Law shrugged. “I guess.” 

There was a pause, and then–

“What do you think of Miss Bellemere?” 

“I don’t know. What do you mean?” Law cocked an eyebrow at his father, who was rubbing his face with the dishtowel. 

“Well, I mean, uh…” Rocinante fumbled for the words, licking his lips nervously. “You know what? Never mind.” He waved a hand. “Just forget I said anything.” 

“Uh-huh.” said Law, suspicious. He had a vague idea of what Rocinante had been alluding to, and it bothered him more than he felt comfortable telling. 

Not that Bellemere wasn’t a nice person; she was, in fact, the nicest person Law had met since leaving the Donquixote family. Nami and Nojiko were…okay. They could get on his nerves at times, but at least they didn’t treat him like a disease. 

But he couldn’t imagine them as his mother and siblings–the thought made him cringe. Four years had passed since he’d lost his family, and still he couldn’t bring himself to assimilate, to move on. The idea of getting another family felt like a cheap replacement for what he’d already lost. 

Rocinante would tell him if anything as serious as that was developing. He wouldn’t lie to him, not again; he’d promised he wouldn’t.  

But what if that had been a lie, too? 

—

Rocinante was startled by the sudden change in Law’s behavior over the next few days. Being around Nami and Nojiko had brought a new life into the boy’s eyes; he’d been more open, more willing to initiate conversation–he’d even laughed at one of Roci’s stupid jokes, which was a miracle in itself. But now, Law was shutting down, receding into himself like a turtle in its shell.  A dozen possibilities flew through the blonde’s mind: _he’s being bullied at school, he’s having nightmares and won’t tell me, the Amber Lead Syndrome is coming back_ –that one scared Rocinante the most, but he quickly dismissed it as implausible; Law’s medical skills were more than enough to deal with any setbacks.  

He gave a heavy sigh, and glared out the window towards the ocean, chin propped upon his fist. This whole parenting gig was still so new, and frankly, he was doing a pretty good job of screwing it up. Bellemere appeared to have it all together, though; she was a fabulous mother. Not to mention she had a quick tongue and a good sense of humor, and she seemed to enjoy being around him…Rocinante shook his head, realizing he was getting off track. 

Tomorrow was Sunday; the two of them could go downtown and spend some time together outside the house. Maybe he’d try talking to Law then. 

—

On Sunday night, Bellemere checked the girls’ room five times to make sure they were asleep before she felt sure that she could leave without them waking up. All the windows were locked, the door was locked _and_ bolted, she had pepper spray in her purse and a bone to pick with a certain fishman. 

The _clack clack_ of her shoes was the only sound in the sleeping town of Cocoyashi; all the stores closed at 9:00 sharp, leaving no one on the streets except cicadas and the occasional stray cat. Walking to the library took her around twenty  minutes; she could hear the distant gargle of fishman laughter as she approached the back of the building. 

“Hello, boys.” she said, pausing behind them with one hand placed on her hip. The two fishmen turned around to look at her, arms folded across their chests. Oh, great. It was Arlong’s inexplicably annoying second-in-command, Chuu–named for the noise he made with his lips–and another fishman she didn’t recognize. 

“Where’s Arlong?” she asked.

“Sadly, he couldn’t make it tonight– _chu_!” His voice was laced with sarcasm. 

Bellemere resisted the urge to rip his trachea out. “I arranged to talk with him, not a couple of his sidekicks.” She kept her voice firm. “Where is he?” 

“I’m surprised you haven’t figured this out by now, Miss Bellemere– _chu!_ –but you don't control the terms of this meeting. We have a message to give you from Arlong.” 

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly to disperse the tenseness in her muscles and the slowly-growing sense of dread in her stomach. 

“Alright, then. What’s the message?” If she had to play by their rules, then so be it. She could handle a little bit of long-distance communication, so long as the issue was settled and her daughters were safe–

There was an instant of blinding pain, and then she was curled up on the concrete, gagging and clutching her stomach where Chuu had kicked her. Their mocking laughter rattled in her ears over the frantic pulsing of her heart.  

“You thought you could bargain with us? _Chu!_ ” He accented this last word with another blow to her ribcage, and she bit back a cry, forcing herself to lay still. Chuu seemed irritated by her lack of response, and drew back his foot for another kick. She anticipated the move, rolled to the side and sprang to her feet, pressing against the wall. 

“I should have known better.” she admitted bitterly, raising her fists. “Fishmen are too stupid to use diplomacy.” 

Chuu’s left eyelid twitched. 

“Can I kill her now?” grunted his companion, baring his serrated teeth with rage. 

“No. Arlong said to leave her alive.” A malicious smile creeped across the blue fishman’s mouth. “But that leaves quite a lot of room for interpretation.” 

Bellemere’s mouth went dry as she realized their intentions. Before she could run, Chuu lunged, his massive fist smacking her to the ground with ease. His foot smashed into her gut, knocking the air from her lungs; she gasped but couldn’t find enough breath to scream when he stomped on her outspread arm. 

Grasping her ponytail in one hand, Chuu hauled her to her knees, jerking her head back painfully. Bellemere gritted her teeth and met his gaze, cradling her splintered arm against her side. 

“Humans– _chu!_ You think you’re so significant. But when you come up against any resistance, you crumble.”  

His knuckles collided with her face, and she heard the bones in her nose snap. A strangled grunt passed her lips, quickly cut off when he punched her in the ribs. 

“Oi, oi. Let me have a turn, Chuu.” protested the second fishman. “You always get to do this job.” 

“Fine.” Chuu relinquished his grasp and she crashed onto the concrete, shuddering and heaving for air. Out of her failing vision, she could see Chuu’s companion advancing, grinning in sadistic delight. As he knelt down to resume the assault, Bellemere didn’t even try to resist.

_Girls, I’m so sorry…_

Every part of her throbbed; she felt her body flopping and knew he was hitting her. There was a warm wetness pooling beneath her back: blood.  

_I was just trying to keep you safe._

—

She hovered in a state of semi-consciousness, the pain eventually blurring into a dull, aching throb. Nothing distinguished one moment from the next; they could have been beating her for hours and it would have felt the same. The only thing she remembered clearly was Chuu leaning down and whispering:

“Arlong expects the money in two days– _chu!_ If you can’t pay up, well…” He ended the sentence with a snigger and the two fishmen walked away, leaving her bruised, bloody and alone. 

 _Nami and Nojiko._ she thought, dimly. _I need to get back to them._

This vague notion crescendoed into red-hot alarm, spurring her mind into full wakefulness. With a moan, Bellemere tried to get up, but her limbs refused to cooperate; they had been tortured far too much. The wave of agony brought on by the simplest motion was almost enough to make her slip back into unconsciousness. 

Tears of frustration and despair sprang to her eyes. How could she get home if she could barely walk? 

_Calm down. Think. Assess your injuries._

She made a mental check of her entire body, focusing on each part to determine what was safe to move and what needed the most help. Head: sore, probably from hitting concrete. Possible concussion. Face: aching terribly. Her nose had definitely been broken. Neck: slight kink, nothing serious. Shoulders: her left was fine; her right shoulder felt like it had a gigantic needle stuck in it that was slowly injecting acid into her collarbone. Most likely a stab wound, but she couldn’t remember enough to be sure. Arms: her left arm was useless, broken in several places. Her right ached, but wasn’t too damaged.

Everything was hurting, which meant she wasn’t paralyzed. With a groan, she rolled over onto her back and stared up at the night sky. For a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was. Then, it came to her: _the library_. This was immediately followed by: _Rocinante_. 

His home was nearby, much closer than her own from here. She remembered walking there two nights ago to have dinner, right after her fainting spell. If she could just get to her feet, all she needed to do was go left from the library for a couple blocks, cross the street, and crawl up the ridiculously steep driveway leading up to his house. 

Yeah, she could do that–alone, in the dark, with a broken arm and countless other injuries. Not that she had a choice.

 

—

It was Sunday night and Law was in bed, sound asleep–a perfect opportunity for Rocinante to relax for a couple hours before settling in for the night. He curled up on the couch, a book in one hand and a glass of wine on the side table next to him. Just as he thumbed open the book to the place he’d left off, there came a rapping noise at the door.

“Who on earth…” He placed the book down and waited for several seconds, just to ensure that he hadn’t imagined the sound. The knock came again, louder and more impatient. Incredulous, Rocinante padded to the door and turned the knob. 

“Hello? Holy crap–Bellemere, what are you doing here?” 

“I need your help.” She brushed past him and lurched unsteadily into the kitchen. He stared blankly out the door for several seconds, not quite comprehending what had just happened.

“Uh, B-bellemere? What’s going on? Why are you–“ Rocinante turned around just in time to see the woman strip off her teal gingham shirt and fling it to the floor. A strangled noise came out of his throat, somewhere between a squeak and a cough, and he immediately stared at the floor. 

“Rocinante, what are you doing? Get over here and help me!” she snapped. 

“Yes, _ma’am_.” he said fervently, and stumbled over to the kitchen, doing his best to avoid looking at her directly. 

“Do you have a first aid kit?” She had one of his dishtowels pressed against her bare shoulder. 

“Yes, here.” He reached up and got the kit down from its place on top of the refrigerator, placing it on the counter and flipping it open. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed Bellemere sag against the edge of the island, and he glanced up, concerned.

Blood was soaking through the dishtowel. 

He placed a gentle hand on hers and gently lifted the fabric up, revealing a four-inch slice across her collarbone, raw and oozing. Further inspection showed him wounds all over her torso; her ribcage was a mass of black-and-blue welts, face crusty with dried blood. One arm lay crooked against her side, the joint bent at an unnatural angle. 

“What…what happened?” Rocinante gasped. 

She gave a weak laugh. “Took you long enough to notice. Get me an icepack for these bruises, will you?” 

Bellemere was one usable arm short, so he gingerly lifted her up onto the countertop and applied the ice pack to her ribs. As soon as it came in contact with her skin, she cried out and bent over double. 

“Sorry.” he murmured, steadying her. 

“It’s okay.” Her reply came out as a taut gasp. “I can handle it.” 

He felt terrible for causing her more pain, but pressed the ice pack against her ribs as hard as he dared. Her breaths were short and choppy; she gave up trying to staunch the cut and gripped his shoulder, squeezing every time the pain threatened to overwhelm her. 

“Dad?” 

Both adults pivoted their heads towards the hallway; Law stared back at them both, mutely taking in the sight of his father at the kitchen counter with a topless woman who was covered in blood. Several awkward seconds passed, during which Rocinante could feel his face getting more and more flushed. 

“This looks a lot weirder than it actually is, okay?” he blurted at last. Bellemere slapped him across the head and started laughing for no reason at all. Rocinante glanced at her cluelessly for a moment, and then unwittingly joined in. 

She winced and clutched at her ribs. “Shouldn’t do that. Oh, that _hurts_ …” 

“Right. Law, we could use your help.” 

The boy jogged over and grabbed a stool, promptly seating himself and digging through the first-aid kit. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the fact that Bellemere was wearing only a bra and blood-stained jeans; he was more interested by the unusual angle of her arm. 

“You’ve got lots of injuries, but the most serious one is your arm. Looks like a comminuted fracture of the humerus." 

“Okay, and that means…?” 

“This bone has been shattered into more than one piece.” He traced an invisible line near her elbow. “It’ll need surgery before it’s put in a cast.”

Bellemere seemed to wilt, eyes glazing over. “Okay.” she said faintly, lips barely moving. 

“I’ll call 9-1-1.” Rocinante volunteered, reaching for the cellphone in his back pocket. 

“No, dad.” interrupted Law. Their eyes met; Law’s brow was furrowed in determination. For several moments, the two stared at each other, tangled in unspoken conflict. 

“I can do this.” Law said firmly. 

“Do what?” Bellemere’s question went unnoticed. 

With a slow nod, Rocinante acquiesced, placing the phone down onto the counter. “Okay, Dr. Law. What are your orders?” he asked with a sly wink. 

—

“This operation will be painless. You won’t feel anything while I’m working, but…don’t freak out, okay?” Law’s professional demeanor cracked for a moment, and he glanced at his father nervously. Perched on the couch like a gigantic, gangly bird, Rocinante raised his eyebrows as though to say, _Go ahead. You’ve got this._

The boy struggled with the fact that his devil fruit capabilities were out of the ordinary, even for its kind; often, it made him feel like more of a freak than he already was. This would be the first time he’d done surgery on someone other than himself. 

Bellemere shifted her position on the floor, grimacing. Even with a rubber mattress between her and the living room floor, she was cramped and stiff. “I still don’t see how this is a good idea. I mean, you’re what, ten?”

“Fourteen.” corrected Law, flatly. “My biological father was a doctor,” he continued, wriggling his hands into a pair of surgical gloves. “I learned almost everything I know from him.” 

“Almost?”

“The rest I figured out myself.” Raising his right hand and uttering a single word, Law summoned a permeable blue orb–his _room–_ that shrouded all three of them, reaching almost to the kitchen. Selecting one of the many surgical tools that lay on the tray next to him, he balanced it between his fingers like an artist holding a paintbrush. 

“I don’t know if I can watch this…” muttered Rocinante, swallowing hard. 


	7. Chapter 7

As Law proceeded with the surgery, Bellemere kept her eyes open, keeping her neck at an angle so she could see what was going on. Rocinante copped out early on, pacing around the couch and nervously checking the time on his phone every few minutes. He’d always been a little squeamish about medical procedures; it didn’t make matters any better that the patient was the woman he cared about. On his third round, he snagged his shoe on the carpet and tumbled to the ground, knocking over a potted plant. The pot shattered and potting soil flew everywhere.

“Hush, Cora-san!” Law hissed. Rocinante popped up from behind the couch, nodding sheepishly as he vaulted over the back and seated himself. 

After that, the living room was deathly silent beyond the occasional intake of breath of the clatter of surgical instruments. Law’s hands worked quietly, skillfully, each motion smooth and reflexive. True to his word, he didn’t inflict any pain on his patient; his Devil Fruit ability allowed him to cut into and even completely remove body parts without external or internal damage. Still, Bellemere was understandably indignant when he severed her arm at the shoulder. With a shriek, she sat straight up and made a grab for the disconnected limb. 

“Relax.” he instructed, trying to press her back down onto the rubber mattress with one hand and holding her arm in the other. “I’m not going to hurt it. It’s just easier for me to repair the bone this way.”

“How are you supposed to put it _back_?” she demanded, hysteria bleeding into her voice. “That’s my arm! Give it to me, you little–!“ 

“Bellemere, it’s okay. He knows what he’s doing.” Rocinante soothed. 

  Biting back a thousand snippy replies, she reluctantly laid down, her gaze never leaving Law for a second. 

\--

It was almost midnight by the time all of Bellemere’s injuries had been sufficiently tended to; her arm was put in a cast, cracked ribs mended and stitches put in the gash on her shoulder. At last, Law straightened up and started removing his surgical gloves. With an ethereal whooshing sound, the blue orb began to recede, dissolving entirely within a few seconds. 

“I’m finished.” he announced. Bellemere sat up, noting with relief that she could make that movement without much pain. 

“Thanks, kiddo.” She fingered the cast, a genuine smile lighting up her face. “You’ve got some pretty amazing skills. Even without the Devil Fruit, you’d be an incredible doctor.” 

“You’re welcome.” he replied dully, absorbed in sterilizing and repacking his tools; once finished, he stood up, swaying unsteadily. 

Rocinante bent over and helped Bellemere to her feet. "I, uh–" he cleared his throat. "I got you one of my shirts to wear. Since yours had bloodstains on it." 

She took the wad of soft, pale green fabric from his outstretched hand and unfolded it.  

"It might be a little big." he confessed, raising his eyebrows as she tried to wriggle into the shirt with one arm. "Do–do you need help?"

"That'd be nice, yeah." she grunted. Gingerly, he helped pull the sweater over her head and shoulders, careful to avoid touching any bruises or cuts. She thrust her right arm into the sleeve while her wounded arm remained crooked by her stomach, leaving the left sleeve empty. The oversized shirt swallowed up her small frame, the hem nearly reaching to her knees. 

"That's _much_ better." She admitted. “Thank you, Roci.” 

"No problem. You can wear my shirts any time." 

She laughed, flapping a sleeve at him. "Is that an invitation for me to stay the night more often?” 

“Uh, well–“ 

"Dad, I don't feel good." 

Rocinante turned just in time to see Law collapse; in one swift motion, he stepped forward and caught the boy in his arms.  

"Whoa, now. Is he okay?" Bellemere knelt down next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

"He's still breathing. I think he's just fainted. Using his ability always tires him out, and he's never gone this long without a break." He sounded more confident than he felt. 

"Yeah, he…he really pushed himself this time."

"I never would have guessed." She kept her voice low. 

"He's like that." Rocinante gently laid the boy on the couch, cushioning his head with a pillow. “And it’ll be fine if I leave him alone for a few minutes; we need to get you home.”

Bellemere stiffened, the memory of Chuu’s threat coming back painfully clear. The familiar panic made her tremble, her mind rewinding the bloody event behind the library and picturing the same brutality inflicted on her precious daughters. 

She choked down a breath, and then another, grasping the arm of the couch for support. “They’re _not_ getting my girls.” she muttered under her breath, knuckles tightening. 

“Bellemere? Are you alright? Hold on, let me get you some water.” 

“No, no. I’m fine. Let’s go.” Her voice was thick; tears began to build at the corners of her eyes, but she managed to compose herself. Bellemere rarely allowed herself the luxury of crying in public, and this was no exception.

Brows knitted, Rocinante scanned her face anxiously for a few seconds, and then turned towards the door, digging a pair of keys from his pocket. “We’ll take my moped.” 

—

The drive home on the moped was one of the most confusing experiences in Rocinante’s life. They were just neighbors, he thought, and yet her body language and his own emotions told a different story. 

When she climbed onto the seat behind him, he couldn’t deny the thrill that shivered down his spine as she slid her hand around his waist; he could almost hear her smirk in the darkness. The sensation came again, rippling and tingling, when she leaned her head against his back to shield her face from the wind. 

“Comfy?” He gasped, barely managing to squeeze out the word. The sudden pounding of his heart and shortness of breath baffled him. 

“Mm.” Her nod brushed against his spine.

With a snap of his fingers, Rocinante put an orb of silence over the two of them, and then revved the moped to life. Their journey would be noiseless–a precaution in case Bellemere’s attackers were still nearby. 

Neither of them spoke the entire journey. The gentle pressure of her resting on his back kept his posture rigid, as he didn’t want to move and risk making her uncomfortable. As the road peeled away beneath their feet, he took the opportunity to go over what had happened that night.

She’d never explained directly, but he’d guessed right away that Arlong and his henchmen were behind the attack. Who else held such ill will towards her, if not the unofficial lord and master of the town? Blackmail and bullying had his name scrawled all over it. 

And here he was, helpless. Maybe Bellemere was right. Someone with that much influence couldn’t be stopped by just one person, much less through the power of the law. It was naive of him to think that he could have actually made a difference in that way. But he couldn’t wait by the sidelines, either. 

Lost in thought, Rocinante unconsciously tightened his grip on the handlebars, accelerating the moped so that it threw the two of them forward. He mumbled an apology as Bellemere readjusted her position with a stifled moan, and forced himself to focus on the road ahead. 

 

They eased to a halt in front of her house twenty minutes later; Bellemere lifted her head, breathing a sigh that tickled the hair on the nape of his neck. She released her grip from around his waist and slid off the passenger seat, nearly stumbling but steading herself on Rocinante’s shoulder. 

“I’ll walk you to the door.” he offered. 

“I’m alright, thanks.” Her gait was stiff, steps small and measured as she made her way to the little house. She was already on the porch when he spoke: 

“So…you’re not going tell me what this is all about? Or why Arlong sent two thugs to attack you in the first place?” 

There was a pause; her hand rested on the doorknob. 

“H-he didn’t send them. I arranged a meeting. It didn’t turn out the way I’d planned.” 

His confusion must have been obvious, because she pivoted to face him, impatience and exhaustion mingling in her face. 

“Honestly, Rocinante, it’s past midnight, I’m bloody, bruised, and tired, and my arm’s broken. Not a good time to be having this conversation. And besides, last time someone tried to help me, they got hurt. I’m not letting that happen again.” She lifted the sleeve of the sweater to wipe her face, shoulders sagging. “I…I like you, Roci. You’re a good friend. You don’t deserve to suffer on my account.” 

“If I’m your friend, let me help. All Arlong wants is money, right? He’s gouging you for more than you owe.”

“No. You can’t. You won’t. If you try to give me money, Arlong will find out and punish you, too. Law needs his dad.”

“Nami and Nojiko need their mother.” He got off the moped, strode over to her. “If there is anything I can do, tell me. Please.”

There was a moment’s pause. Then, she shook her head and stepped inside. 

—

Bellemere wanted to crush her alarm clock when it started screeching at her the next morning. Reflexively, she jerked out an arm to slam the ‘snooze’ button, only to discover that it was stuck firmly in a cast. This movement sent ripples of agony all up the bone and into her neck.

“Ugghhn…” she moaned, gritting her teeth. The clock continued to shriek, each successive beep getting louder. Impulsively, she sat up, reached out with her good arm, and flung the infuriating device straight off the desk, cord and all. 

If she’d thought she was in pain before, that was nothing compared to her body’s response to that sudden action. Everything hurt; her body was one massive, pulsing, human-shaped bruise. 

A timid knock at the bedroom door drew Bellemere to her feet. 

“Mommy? Are you okay?” Nami called through the keyhole. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just tripped over some laundry, that’s all.” This sentence was punctuated with a muffled groan and a curse, which she frantically prayed went unnoticed by her youngest daughter. 

Nami giggled. “You’re just like Mr. Rocinante, mommy!” Her footsteps pattered rapidly away from the door; probably heading into the kitchen for breakfast. 

The mention of Roci brought back the hellish events of the night before; she nearly collapsed back onto her bed, but caught herself. She didn’t want to jostle the broken limb any more than necessary. 

Well, broken arm or no broken arm, she still needed to get the kids to school. First things first: getting herself presentable. Her hair was a rat’s nest, as she’d been too exhausted to take it out of the ponytail the night before; redoing that with one arm was not something she was willing to experiment with. It looked fine, anyway. 

Her pants still had blood on them, judging by the dark splotches here and there. And she was still wearing Roci’s sweater, which now smelled like her sweat. Resigning herself to the fact that she would have to change at least some of her clothes, Bellemere stepped into the bathroom, and was stunned by the reflection staring back at her. Granted, she’d taken some pretty hard hits the night before, but she hadn’t expected a purply-yellow blotch covering her entire left eye and cheekbone. The skin was puffy and tender; it ached every time she squinted. 

There was no way she could hide all of this from her kids. Mentally preparing for all the questions Nami and Nojiko would ask, Bellemere picked up a hairbrush and attempted to make herself appear less like death warmed over and more like a competent mother. 

 

“Did you really fight them off, Mommy?”  Eyes round with excitement, Nami bounced up and down in her chair, scrambled eggs all but forgotten. “Did you win?”

“She just told you she did, silly.” Nojiko said demurely, placing her fork on her empty plate with a frown. “Are you going to be okay? Are you sure those thugs won’t come back again?”

“I bet they’re too scared to come back.” said Nami, confidently.

Bellemere waved a hand. “I’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t handle. Now–“ she stood up awkwardly, relieved that her lie had sold. “Let’s get you girls to school.”


End file.
